Yet, In Their Eyes
by FaerieatHeart13
Summary: Can two people, who have experienced so much anger and grief, ever love a stranger? Can those, who have been betrayed, ever learn to trust again? ALW based and Erik OC pairing.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, whether by Leroux, Kay or Webber. I own a few characters that I created, but nothing else.

My fiction is based off of the ALW musical version and Erik will be placed with one of my own characters. Sorry to all you who don't agree with me. I still hope you can enjoy this.

This is my first Fan Fiction posting, so I'll still be getting my bearings. I appreciate constructive criticism and replies. I'd love to hear what you think. I'll try to update regularly.

**Yet, In Their Eyes**

**Prologue: Fire and Ice**

Embers reflected off emerald eyes. The heat of anger were caught in those eyes. Heat that would burn inside for many years to come. Fire that would destroy those it's owner sought. Yet a cold mist fogged them, salty rain blinked from them. Grief for what had passed. Eternal Grief.

Slowly the mist and fire froze. No longer could you read any emotion in those green depths, save one. All that remained was purpose. Unwavering purpose. A whimper shifted the eye's gaze from the embers to a child. A candle of love warmed them, shining through the arctic wall placed there. It was that love that mothered the purpose in their core. With candle flame and ice embedded in their center, they brought their gaze to the black horizon. These emerald eyes had much yet to see.

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Black print was seared by the intensity of two blue-black eyes. "Opera Populaire heavily damaged by a fire...several killed..to reopen in the fall of next year." Amusement crossed those eyes at the thought of the fluttered despairing faces of the Opera's managers. Dark blue scanned the newspaper again. They noted the Phantom of the Opera, or so called Opera Ghost, was not mentioned in the article. Content with their search, blue depths turned into the shadows and disappeared.

If they had turned into the sunlight, all a passerby could have seen in them ( though very few ever met their gaze, by accident or choice) was ice. The few who had looked into them, and fewer still able to read any emotion in them, saw burning anger, loathing, and a hungry demon. Only two had seen any different. Both saw the despair and longing that their owner harbored in his heart. One saw it and pitied him. The other fled, not willing to see anymore. No one had been able to read love in those dark eyes, for none sought or earned it. The one person who had inspired that emotion in them had run from it. Pain had leaked into midnight irises at that moment. No one had seen that either. No one would, not yet.

The body attached to those eyes disappeared. Still, one could feel their gaze. Nothing was hidden from that gaze.

Readers: My whole story will not be this descriptive and symbolic. My prolouge just sets up characters and plot to be revealed later. I would love reviews and any help I can get! Thanks for reading.


	2. Th Path, Purses, and Pain

**The Path, Purses, and Pain**

The sun turned it's steady gaze onto the city of Paris and it's throngs of people, treading the same path they had taken their entire lives and likely to stay on till they were worn down into ash and dust. They were content and cheerful, during their normal activities. Bread baked, sparks flew from iron, washing hung outside the window, merchants set out their wares, letters posted, knives chopped meat, dirt hoed into place, and cheese purchased. Even the orphans were at the pockets of the crowd, never seeming to break from their thievery. Children threaded their way through the tides of people, trying to find a person who would easily be the one to provide the money needed for bread tonight. One such girl was close to reaching inside her victim's purse, when a strong hand caught her wrist. The woman, her victim, had caught her in the act and was now staring inquisitively at her.

" Why, pray tell, were you grasping at my purse?" her fat pink lips were in a sour state, but her booming voice was gentle. The girl looked up at her captor. She had a pile of brown, limp, oily curls atop her head, and her figure had plenty of cushion about it. Warm nutmeg eyes flashed when she didn't answer.

" Well?" Words gushed forth in guilt breaking the girls silence.

" I'm sorry _madame_! I won't do it again! I promise! I'm a good girl, honest! Please don't turn me in!" Her small body trembled, sending her golden ringlets swinging in the torn kerchief that held them. Green gold eyes and dirty cheeks glistened with salty tears. Her clothes were torn and muddy, but one could see, on close inspection, that they were once made of finely woven fabric and that she had long outgrown them. The woman suddenly felt protective of the vulnerable girl.

" What's your name, child?" the woman softly questioned.

" Sophie."

" Mine is Madame Betise. Are you alone?"

" No, madame. My sister is waiting for me."

" I would like to meet your sister. Could you take me to her?" Madame Betise was strangely interested in the girl and wanted to see if her sister held the same charm. Sophie hesitated, but when Madame flashed her a warm smile, she hurried into the crowd, her face bright with confidence. Every now and then, as she darted through the masses of people, she would look back at the struggling older woman, to make sure she was keeping up.

Brown houses with woman sweeping the dirt from the doorsteps went by. Grey, black, brown shingles and tiles baked in the sun. Horses clattered down the cobblestones. Carriages carried the elite, those too proud to join the lower masses. Grim smeared and clean windows winked with books, meats, dresses, baked goods, dress coats, diamonds, and medicine. Boys went on errands, maids went to the marketplace for the masters lunch, children scurried about their mothers skirts. The unemployed and poor begged on the street corners. The desperate stole bread and vegetables from the stalls to feed starving families. Crown employed soldiers prowled about like carnivores. The babble of a thousand people rose and fell like the tides. Life buzzed through the streets, as it does in any city.

Panting, Madame Betise noted how nimble the girl was, her movements fluid even when darting through the crowds. Falling far behind, despite the girl checking on her progress every so often, she had to quicken her pace to in a desperate attempt to keep up.

The crowds thinned as the amount of dirt thickened. Garbage collected in every crack and cranny. Sophie slid to one side as a yellow splash hit the street, leaving a fresh waste stench in the mud. Madame was just starting to realize she had no idea where she was when Sophie ducked into a dark alley, calling " Arianna! I'm back! I've brought someone who wants to meet you."

A young woman cautiously emerged from the comfort of the shadows. Tall and slim, she exuded a sense of strength, dark brown ringlets cascading into her stern face. Emerald eyes gleamed under dark lashes. A natural scent of clean earth, dew, and ancient trees trickled into the air. Long pale fingers with dirt under the nails curled into fists at her sides. She had soot stained pale cheeks and her tattered dress sagged on her frame.

" Arianna!" Sophie embraced her sister and for a moment the young woman smiled. But her full lips frowned when she turned an icy gaze to Madame Betise. Her cold eyes asked the question her mouth did not voice.

" I'm Madame Betise." Words tumbled from her mouth. She was more than slightly unsettled by the younger woman. She was too cold for comfort. " I caught your sister trying to steal from my purse. I asked her if I could meet you."

" I'm sorry, _madame. _She will not try to steal from you again." Arianna's gaze did not waver or warm up.

"Where are your parents? I would like to meet them as well." Madame blurted.

Sophie's eyes fogged. Arianna knelt down and pulled her sister into her arms. Pain burned the air, though both girls tried to hide it. Arianna's eyes blurred, internally battling her grief. Sophie tried to squeeze the pain out of her heart by clutching her sister. After an awkward silence for Madame Betise, Arianna spoke, struggling for words. " They died... a few year ago. But, we can take care of ourselves." The older sister's resolve had returned, the younger taking a little more time to regroup.

Her 'mother hen' feeling rising, Madame offered, " I can help you." Arianna jerked up.

" We don't need your help, _merci_."

" Just listen to what I have to say. I don't believe two young ladies, such as yourselves, should have to resort to stealing to survive. I would be inhumane if I did not try to help you. I'm not offering you charity, but rather, an opportunity." Arianna's pride backed down. Madame continued, "I work at the reopened Opera Populaire. We are still short a few hands. I believe we could find you both positions quite easily. Your work would be in exchange for room and board, plus a small wage at the end of the month. Are you interested?"

Arianna looked at her sister. Sophie's angelic face glimmered with hope. Arianna could not deny her sister a chance at something better for such a stupid thing as pride. She sighed and stood, brushing as much of the dirt as possible. " Thank you, madame, for your kind offer. We accept it. Can you show us the way to the Opera?"

Smiles lit up Sophie and Madame Betise's faces. Madame waved them to follow her and Sophie pranced out of the alley. Arianna stiffly started to follow, her shoulders tense with the burden of the past and her responsibility. Another branch in their rocky path had just begun.


End file.
